


Projections

by cassyblue



Category: Gideon the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, bed sharing, just kisss already you idiots, post gideon the ninth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-24 14:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassyblue/pseuds/cassyblue
Summary: It's been three months since Harrowhawk Nonagesimus ascended as a lyctor and three months since Gideon Nav died for her. Harrow is a fuck up at being a lyctor and just wants her Griddle back.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 8
Kudos: 110





	1. Projections

It had been three months since Harrow had been supposedly rescued from Canaan House, three months since she had last seen the stupid face of her cavalier, and three months since Cytherea had been killed. Three months of mourning for Gideon and being angry with Gideon for making the decision for them about ascending. This was not what she wanted not after Ianthe had appeared in the chamber with blood on her face. But it had been death or life and Harrow still wants to be the one that died. The Emperor told her he could not find the bodies so Harrow has even been denied the chance to do the last rights, the chance to try to summon the ghost of Gideon Nav even though technically Gideon’s soul is in her.

Well, supposedly --she doesn’t feel Griddle’s fucking soul or even muscle memory. In training, Harrow can barely keep up with the instructors. Gideon had told her that she had noodle arms. But it was beyond the lack of any muscle in Harrow’s stick arms. It’s all confusing to her. Her feet are supposed to move a specific way, her arms are supposed to move a specific way and yet it is all disjointed when she tries.

This is one of the few nights that Harrow actually lays in bed in the quarters assigned to her. Most of the time she has been rutting through the collection of books and scrolls on necromancy that apparently is the Emperor’s personal collection only available to lyctors. She is immortal now, she doesn’t need sleep anymore. It’s far more important to figure out what the hell is going on. The writings haven’t provided much insight besides becoming a lyctor was really stupid. Unlimited power and immortality is not worth taking another’s soul. She can see why Cytherea turned out the way she did. Fuck you, Nav, fuck you until your bones are ground into dust.

Harrow stares at the ceiling for what seems like hours until she falls asleep. She has never been good at sleep. But she is exhausted from all the emotions, from carrying the loadstone of grief around her neck, from radiating anger like a dying star.

Then a voice startles her out of the blackness, “Boo!”

Harrow instinctively raises a construct from a knuckle bone she must have dropped on the floor at some point. She blindly attacks with the construct, hitting something by the bed.

“Ow, what the fuck, Nonagesimus!” The voice yells as the owner whacks at the construct in the dark.

Harrow is still half asleep. It’s not Ianthe. Ianthe had tried to sneak into Harrow’s quarters just to try to get Harrow to fight her. She would already have blood and body fluids splattering on her face.

The voice whines, “Harrow, can you not be a bitch for once?”

Harrow shoots up. No- it couldn’t be. “Griddle?”

“Yes, fuckhead!” Harrow is fully awake now having heard Gideon’s voice. Being of the Ninth House had gifted her with superior night vision due to the low light days and dark nights. Gideon stands next to the bed looking completely not dead. There is no bloody wounds from the spikes. She wears no face paint but still has those ridiculous glasses hanging off her shirt. The construct falls clattering to the floor.

Harrow can’t breathe, not that it really matters that much anymore, as Gideon sits on the edge of the bed scooting closer to her. This is some sort of dream or sleep paralysis delusion. Or some nightmare prank concocted by Ianthe in her attempts to piss off Harrow. Ianthe really wants to see what Harrow can do and Harrow really does not want to do anything that could use Gideon’s soul so callously like she is just some sort of generator and not a person. Then she asks probably the dumbest thing she has ever asked in her life, “How are you alive?”

“I’m not.” Gideon says Harrow finally sits up. “I’m dead. Remember, my little, weird necromancer?”

However, there’s an expression of glee on Gideon’s face that Harrow just wants to wipe off with a pummeling of skeletons like she did during childhood skirmishes. This has to be some nightmare or hallucination from not sleeping or at the worse something Ianthe is doing. And then Harrow just slaps Gideon across the face.

Gideon...feels solid--real. Harrow just stares as Gideon rubs her jaw. The jawline that Harrow regrets not running her fingers along when they were in that goddamn pool where they had finally well — she’s not going to think about it.

“I have been trying for weeks to do this. You still are such an infuriating goblin who doesn’t eat or sleep. You do realize that you have to eat even though you’re immortal? It’s not like your body won’t need sustenance, dumbass. My god, you sleep even less now with your stupid nerd time at night.”

Harrow is wordless at Gideon scolding her so much like she had yelled at Harrow at Canaan House for not eating or sleeping. Gideon continues, “Also, your brain literally never shuts up, Nonagesimus and you complained that I never shut up. I had been trying to get your attention for weeks and you just couldn’t hear it because you were too busy being a melodramatic bone witch.”  
And then Harrow grabs Gideon, pulling her into her as Gideon starts to sputter. Harrow buries herself into the nook of Gideon’s shoulder. She can smell Griddle, the familiar scent of the ninth house of must and mildew still clings to Gideon along with the jock funk. “Shut up, Nav.”

And Gideon shuts up ending the litany of complaints about Harrow’s habits ranging from not washing her face after removing the makeup to not kicking Ianthe’s ass. Gideon’s arms, her tree trunks of arms, wrap around Harrow as she buries her face into Harrow’s curls. Harrow feels something run down her face, oh, she’s crying. But she doesn’t want to be crying. Why is she crying? Gideon’s rough fingers wipe away the tears, “You already cried enough for me. Remember, you’re pissed off at me.”

“Why the hell did you do it? I should have been the one. You should have listened to me for once in your entire miserable life,” Harrow’s voice is wobbly and she doesn’t like it.

Gideon’s lips brush Harrow’s ear, “We were both going to die, Harrow, you know that. This was the best option to get out of the cursed house and not die. I know you’re always ready to die because of what your parents did. You have plans for the locked tomb and what good are they if the most gifted necromancer in the system was dead.”

“Stop it. You know I’m not that-”

Gideon laughs, “You’re still pissed Ianthe figured it out before you, aren’t you?”

“She is the literal walking version of a blood boil in human skin.” Harrow snaps.

Gideon smiles, her grin growing wide for a moment. Her stupid grin, god, Harrow had missed that so much. “Yeah I know she’s gross. Remember, one flesh, one end bitch?”

Harrow’s eyes have traveled downward to Gideon’s hand. She wants so badly to grab it and lace her fingers through Gideon’s and never let go. She nods biting her lip. And then she finally asks the question that she’s not wanted to ask in case this is all fake. “How?”

“I don’t really know. It’s like the construct fight at Canaan House where you got in my head? But instead I’m the one in your head. Which is probably had been my worst nightmare before all this shit happened.” Gideon’s eyes glaze over as she speaks. Harrow rests her head against Gideon’s chest as Gideon’s arm cups her almost protectively. “We didn’t do the ascending right. You know that. I think that’s part of it. But also like, it seems only you can see me and touch me. I’ve tried to fuck with Ianthe a few times because I was bored while you were sleeping. I guess that was more like I dont know being a revenant? But then the last time you slept, I figured out I could touch you. That like I wasn’t some shitty revenant.”

“Do you think this happens to Ianthe with Naberius?” Harrow asks, her curiosity is piqued now. She hasn’t found any mention of this in anything she had read.

Gideon shakes her head, “No. But she did it the way it is supposed to go. She ate Babs, even though he was such a prick he didn’t deserve that. But he’s like completely part of her now I think. I still feel separate from you even though I’m with you.” Gideon rests her chin on Harrow’s head and for once Harrow doesn’t mind it, even though in the past she would have beat up Gideon for even thinking about doing that.

“I thought you were gone. Like I couldn’t feel you at all like they said I was supposed to. Why the fuck haven’t you been helping at practice you shiteating cunt?” Harrow snaps. She had been so angry with Gideon. She still is, but it’s different at least now she knows she can punch Gideon for all the supid feelings she’s caused Harrow which are very inconvenient.

“Your brain didn’t fucking shut up. I wanted to. It’s like the construct test. You wouldn’t relax enough so I could at least make sure your ass didn’t get whooped even if you are embarrassing with everything else.”

“I do skeletons. Swords were your thing.” Harrow is very annoyed and strangely self conscious that Gideon had seen the disastrous training.

“We do bones,” Gideon laughs. Harrow squeezes her eyes closed for a moment, god she missed that too. It is so different from the Ninth House where she just wanted to constantly throttle Gideon. Griddle was the only one to ever give a fuck about her.

“I wonder if-” Harrow’s mind starts to race. The Ninth weren’t good with ghosts like the Eighth. Fuck the Eighth. But they were good at constructs. And after years of puppeting her parent’s corpses, Harrow’s skills were honed. “You somehow are tapping into my necromatic abilities.”

“That’s so dumb. You know I’m not a necro.” Gideon snorts.

“One flesh,” Harrow reminds.

Then it dawns on Gideon, “Fuck. Are you serious?”

“The Ninth does constructs, right?” Harrow continues as Gideon’s fingers start to drum on Harrow’s arm.

“With bones, idiot.”

Harrow rolls her eyes, Gideon isn’t listening to her again. It feels almost normal. Except Gideon’s dead. “Yeah, but I’m- no, we are a lyctor now and we didn’t do it right. Maybe somehow, you soul is able to manifest to me because you didn’t get eaten like Naberius.”

“I’ve never gotten eaten.”

“Griddle, don’t be weird.” Harrow is comforted by Gideon’s innuendo. She had even missed the bad jokes. She’s become such a sap, it feels so disgusting. But that's just want being a person is like. Harrow had hidden her emotions, shoved them down to the deepest bits of herself, so she didn’t have to be inconvenienced by caring. Caring got her parents killed. Caring got Gideon killed, well kinda killed.

“You’re weird.” Gideon says as Harrow has had enough with feeling emotions and just grab’s Gideon’s dumb face with her boney fingers and kisses her on the nose. She’s back in the pool with Gideon again, feeling naked. But she doesn’t care now. It has been three months.

Gideon furiously kisses her back. Harrow is shocked for a moment, she hadn’t thought that Gideon would be like that. But Gideon is also a horny fuck. Then Gideon says, “You happy now? I’ve been waiting for three months to do that.”

Harrow nods starting to cry. Gideon eases into laying stretched across the bed, taking up so much space with her brick body. She pulls on Harrow making her fall back onto her pillow. Harrow laces her fingers into Gideon’s hand. “Griddle, I’ve missed your idiot face so much. I’ve missed your moronic jokes. I’ve missed you, my stupid fake cavalier.”

Gideon draws Harrow close, “I’m here now. I’m always going to be here with you regardless of if you want me to be or not.”

“Do you even know how long you can manifest like this?”

Gideon shrugs, “No. But I mean I’m supposed to be like your battery or something.”

“You’re burning yourself to be here with me?” Harrow hits Gideon, “You are so stupid.”

“I love you too,” Gideon laughs as Harrow starts to attack her viciously with the pillow.

It’s almost like that night after the pool. But it’s different. It’s two souls, one flesh now. They can’t be unbound according to the emperor. However, Harrow has some ideas about that and if she could just find Gideon’s body. Then, maybe they could be like that night again. Maybe it’d kill them. But she wants to try so Gideon at least has freedom more than just a projection to Harrow.

They finally settle back down after wrestling over pillows and smacking each other giggling like children. Gideon holds Harrow so close, her eyes are closed but her smile is contented. Harrow is afraid that if she sleeps in the morning Gideon will be gone. Harrow’s fingers caress Gideon’s hand that lays over her heart. “Don’t go back in my head, please.”

“I’ll try, my onyx lyctor priestess,” Gideon’s voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been with Harrow. “But if I do, try to relax during your training ok. I’ll be waiting ok?”

“Promise?” Harrow whispers.

“On the locked tomb.”


	2. Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideon attempting to teach footwork tells Harrow it is like dancing which for once is something that Harrow knows to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this are pulled directly from my fencing training experience. (Thanks Coach Ken, Coach Toni, George, and my dad for torturing me in drills)

Harrow wakes in the morning to Gideon not beside her. Which was exactly what she had been afraid of. She rises and dresses, pausing before applying her face paint, “Gideon?”

No answer. She really hopes that last night was not some dream. If she knew one thing about Gideon it was that Gideon really liked sleeping. Gideon could be sleeping in the back of her brain like the lazy lump she can be. Can souls even sleep? Harrow tries to not think about it too hard. She is not looking forward to the day at all since it will be like the day before and the day before that. She feels trapped in the same day over and over and last night was the first time something different happened. 

She eats. Gideon told her to. She drinks something. Gideon can’t yell at her now. 

And then it is time for training. Harrow tries to relax, but she can’t stop thinking about what if Gideon doesn’t come. The rapier in her hand still feels as awkward as it has for weeks. Ianthe is there with a smirk on her face. Fuck her. The drills start and Harrow struggles to keep up. _ Where the fuck are you Griddle? You said you’d be here? _

Infuriatingly there is no answer. Harrow is going to murder her cavalier for this. 

Ianthe thoroughly thrashes Harrow in the practice bouts. Harrow can see the satisfaction in Ianthe’s eyes that she is able to beat the person who’s cavalier bested hers. It is almost as if Ianthe is going to tell Harrow she’s nothing without Gideon. What good is a lyctor who can’t tap into their cavalier? Harrow hates Ianthe so much but tries so hard not to react to the barbs. 

After the others leave the training room, Harrow wipes her forehead with the towel, panting still from the last bout. She presses the towel to her face and screams into it in frustration. Fucking Gideon. She said she would be there. Just for once, Harrow wants to have a day where she is not completely humiliated. At home, no one would even dare try except for Griddle. 

Hands squeeze her shoulder as Gideon’s voice comes as a whisper in her ear, “Hey.”

Harrow spins and whacks Gideon with the towel that she had just screamed into. She hopes it stings. “Where were you! You promised to be there, shithead!”

Gideon winces and rubs her cheek, “I tried but you literally would not fucking shut up. Did you even try to relax?” 

Harrow glares at Gideon trying to shoot daggers into Gideon’s soul. “I tried.”

“It didn’t work. You need to literally not think. Can you even do that?” Gideon plops down on the training room’s floor cross legged. 

Harrow hits her again with the towel, “I don’t have one very sad and shriveled brain cell in my big head like you. How am I supposed to do anything if I’m not thinking?”

“It would make it easier for me to help you do things. I try and you drown me out just because of how much you’re worrying.” Gideon catches the towel and pulls it from Harrow. 

Harrow wants to scream again. She wants to scream until her throat is raw. She is so pissed at the cruel twist of fate. Griddle is useless because she’s useless. Why is there no winning at anything these days?

“Get up.” Gideon says. 

Harrow does not want to get up. She’s tired. She aches. “No.”

“Harrowhawk, stand the fuck up.” Gideon rises and towers over her. “It’s time for practice.”

Harrow does not get up despite Gideon looming over her. “I already had training.”

“You haven’t had Griddle’s Great Gym Time yet. Get up.” Gideon crosses her arms. 

Harrow reluctantly rises. This is a fucking nightmare. She already has to do physical activities and now her cavalier who apparently is undead or something, is making her do more? She just wants to go take a shower and go stew somewhere musty and dark. 

“See, your problem is that you literally have never done any of this before,” Gideon picks up a practice blade and holds it out for Harrow. Wait, it hits her that Gideon is moving physical objects. That shouldn’t be possible. However, she is too tired to question it. Gideon continues, “And you can’t relax so it’s hard for us to work together.”

Harrow accepts the blade. Then Gideon comes to stand behind her, her arm on Harrow’s, her hand over harrow’s sword hand — Just like at the First House. Harrow stiffens. She doesn’t like this. It hurts. It hurts too much. But it is Gideon adjusting her posture, bringing her arm up higher.

“We are going to do the basics until you want to throw me off Dearburh.” Gideon comes to stand in front of Harrow. Gideon pulls a practice blade off the wall, “And I need to do them too because we’re tiny and I was big.”

We. Harrow doesn’t know how to feel about Gideon referring to them as that. Two souls, one flesh and all that. But she doesn’t like it. It reminds her that she still doesn’t know what happened to Gideon’s body. But it is the most practical thing to say right now. 

“First your stance.” Gideon starts, “You are unbalanced. I need you to get the muscle memory for me because then I’m screwed up.”

“Fuck you, Nav.” Harrow mutters as she mimics Gideon, stepping out with her knees bent, feet perpendicular. 

Gideon taps Harrow’s blade with her, “Keep your arm up. You’ve left us exposed.”

Harrow’s arm already is heavy and tired from early drills. She doesn’t want to do this but Gideon will bully her into it if she doesn’t do it. “I like Aiglamene more than you as an instructor.”

“Tough luck, you have me.” Gideon smirks, “Do the opposite of me. Get used to moving backwards and forwards. Now, advance-”

Harrow hates this already. She knows how to go forward and backwards already. It’s easy. You just walk forward and backwards. As Gideon moves back, Harrow moves forward. Gideon whacks her blade, “Keep your legs bent, don’t drag your back foot.”

Harrow looks down, her legs aren’t bent. She doesn’t understand the back foot thing. “I don’t get it, Griddle, why like this instead of like walking or running.”

“Balance.” Gideon whacks her blade again. “Keep your knees bent, retreat.”

Harrow is about ready to murder Gideon after the twenty minutes of Gideon yelling retreat and advanced, chasing her up and down the one side of the room. Her legs ache more. Gideon smacks her blade every time she makes a mistake or her arm falls. If Gideon says retreat once more time, she is going whack Gideon with the practice blade, she doesn’t care.

“Ok. We can stop that now.” Gideon sets down the practice blade. “But every time it’s Griddle Time, we are going to be doing that.”

“But why?” Harrow whines. She didn’t mean to whine but it just came out. She doesn’t understand. 

“Because, sword fighting is like dancing. You wouldn’t know because you were being a nerd in your room with your moldy books and skeletons.”

“I know how to dance!” Harrow protests.

Gideon grins, “You totally do not.”

“I do!” Harrow retorts. Of course she knows how to dance. Well in theory she does, it’s not that she has actually ever done it with another person. 

“Show me.” Gideon says, “Show me your fancy footwork then, weirdo.”

Harrow drops the practice blade with a huff and grabs Gideon’s hand and places her other hand on the small of Gideon’s back. Gideon is grinning so wide that her face is threatening to split. She puts her hand on Harrow’s shoulder. And then Harrow starts to move.

“Fuck, you do know how to do this,” Gideon says surprised as they move making a box with their feet movements. “I bet you practiced with skeletons. You know we niners cuddle skeletons.”

“Shut up,” Harrow feels the tips of her ears burning. She had indeed practiced with skeletons because it would have been completely mortifying to have Ortus or god forbid, Gideon be her practice partner. “How are you keeping up?”

“One flesh, one end bitch.” Gideon replies as Harrow spins Gideon very awkwardly because of the height difference. “You can do the footwork, you just need to get used to doing it with a sword.”

Harrow presses herself against Gideon, wanting to just keep holding Gideon and to think about stupid swords. Gideon’s hand moves from the shoulder to cup Harrows face as they move together barely thinking about the feet and coordination. Why didn’t Harrow ever try this before with Gideon? She should have done it even though Gideon would have been completely insufferable afterwards. She could have convinced Gideon that it was a necessary skill to woo heiresses of the Second House. Harrow buries her face into Gideon’s shoulder. 

And then Gideon stops and Harrow falls against her. They hadn’t been paying attention and backed right into the wall. Gideon starts to laugh, her entire body shaking. She presses her temple against Harrow’s, now holding Harrow’s face in both hands. “That’s how we need to be when there’s a sword.”

“What?” Harrow stammers for a moment before Gideon gives her a kiss. Gideon’s hands fall back to Harrow’s shoulders. 

“Did you feel that? The way we were moving together?” Gideon’s eyes have a mischievous look in them. 

“Moron, that’s dancing.” Harrow playfully punches Gideon’s arm. 

Gideon shakes her head, “No, dumbass that was one flesh, one end. Synchronization.” 

Harrow steps back, “Fuck, you’re right.”

Gideon takes Harrow’s hand again and slides her large hand against Harrow’s back. Harrow looks up at Gideon almost nervously. It was one thing when she was leading. But Nav is on graceful with a sword. Harrow has seen Gideon fall over stairs and trip on so many things over the years (some of which had been planted by her). She just has to trust Gideon at this point. Gideon gently sways and then moves. 

The only thing Harrow sees is Gideon’s face. They move as one across the training room’s floor as Gideon presses her hip against Harrow’s. The slight change in pressure on Harrow’s back lets her know they are changing direction. Harrow’s squeeze of Gideon’s hand signals when she should be spun. Harrow can’t take it anymore. She grabs Gideon’s face and kisses her causing them to halt. Gideon’s hands press down on her, bringing her closer. She wants Gideon to press harder. Gideon’s nose touches hers and she speaks, “Do you think we could try that but with a sword.”

Harrow wants to tell Gideon to shut up, to shove Gideon to the floor, and ravish her in such a way that would be unbecoming on the Reverend Daughter. Instead she gives into Gideon who is very clearly excited that this breakthrough. Gideon deserves to get her way for a while since Harrow’s been mostly having her way since this whole mess started. 

Gideon picks up the training blade and comes to press against Harrow’s back. Gideon’s arm rests on hers as she takes the blade. Gideon adjusts her grasp for a moment, and then rests her hand over Harrow’s. Gideon breathes into Harrow’s ear, “Advance.”

They advance together. It is awkward at first. Harrow feels as if she is going to fall over because of Gideon’s weight but she doesn’t. Gideon’s arm pushes her arm up to rest on top. Gideon’s voice breathes in her ear the directions and this time, Harrow does not want to murder her. They move fluidly back and forth. Gideon is right, it is like dancing. Harrow leans her head back to rest on Gideon’s shoulder when they stop for a moment. Gideon is beaming with pride. 

“How long are we going to do this?” Harrow asks. 

“For eternity.”

“No, Griddle just for today?” Harrow replies a slight smile starting to touch her lips. She tries to hide it but it's too late. Gideon’s seen it. 

Gideon mussles Harrow’s curls, “Is that a smile I see my on my cold necromancer of the obsidian darkness?”

“No.” Harrow replies trying to not smile more. 

“Probably not much longer, Harrow. Your body is already tired from the morning’s training. We can’t push too hard even if we are a lyctor. We’re going to have to start doing more conditioning because you really fucking need it.” Gideon replies. 

“Please do not tell me that involves pushups.” Harrow groans. 

Gideon smiles wickedly, “Oh no, it’s going to involve burpees.” 

“I hate you.” 


	3. Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianthe provokes Harrow into a fight by being purely a gross human version of a pimple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: mention of self harm, violence/body horror

Harrow falls into a routine, but an uneasy routine. Get up, eat, apply makeup, training, gideon training, nap, reading and study, and then falling into bed completely exhausted. Lyctorhood was not supposed to be constantly exhausting. And most irritatingly, Gideon seemed to never be tired when manifesting. Harrow had considered trying to get Gideon to experiment with her on some necromancy but then she decided against it. One, that would mean burning Gideon’s soul and two, Gideon was also a moron when it came to necromantical theorems.

Then Gideon finally asks what she had been hoping that Gideon would not notice, “Why haven’t you been using necromancy? Like, I haven’t seen you do it during training bouts or just when you’re studying. That’s not the Harrow I know.”

Harrow turns from her desk that has become littered with crumpled papers and piles of books, “You know what happens if I do.”

Gideon comes to sit on the corner of Harrow’s desk, pushing some of the papers and flimsy inward, “No, I don’t. I only know what Cytherea and Ianthe said.”

Harrow looks up at Gideon, “I don’t want to find out.”

“You are really that scared? That’s not my Harrowhark Nonagesimus, the most gifted necromancer in the system and who surpassed her father and grandmother.”

Harrow tries to ignore the use of “my”. But the tips of her ears still burn. It is still rather embarrassing. What if she tries and Gideon can no longer manifest? Harrow could not live like that completely without the one person she cares about. It is still far better to live a half life than no life at all. The theorems she has studied has not presented any solutions to the problem of Lyctorhood. Harrow has been constructing her own equations based off basic theory that every necromancer learns from childhood. She takes some from the revenant theories and some from siphoning, trying to create derivatives from their integrals. Nothing has become complete enough to even try. 

Harrow looks down at her scribblings, “Gideon, I don’t want anything to happen to you. I don’t want to lose you even more. You might be an idiot, but you’re my idiot.”

Gideon reaches out to rest her hand on Harrow’s shoulder, “Stop being a melodramatic bitch. You don’t know what will happen until you try, dumbass. 

“Fuck you.” 

“I’m serious.” Gideon closes her eyes for a moment, “We have been using my skills. What if I can’t protect you with sword alone? A sword only does so much, you know that. You saw -”

“Don’t! I don’t want to remember that!” Harrow says harsher than she meant to. She holds her head in her head. “Griddle, I’m afraid. I’m fucking afraid. That’s why I haven’t.”

Warm arms wrap around Harrow as she sits bent over her desk clutching her face. Gideon’s head rests on her shoulder. Thank god she is silent for once, Harrow wouldn’t be able to deal with a stupid joke. A heavy silence falls over them. 

And that silence continues into the next few days. Gideon does not speak. Harrow does not speak. There is no training except the morning training. Gideon does not manifest except for when Harrow rests trying to sleep, just so Harrow knows she is still there. They lay together, not speaking but so close. It is completely unbearable because Gideon still holds Harrow, still cups her face and plants a kiss on Harrow’s temple. Harrow had thought that Gideon was angry with her. But there is no sense of anger, just frustration between them that is so overwhelming.

It’s just, Harrow can’t bring herself to speak. To tell Gideon all the things she has been afraid of since Canaan House. She can’t even speak of them when Gideon isn’t there without her voice getting caught in her throat and becoming paralyzed. It had seemed easier to try that since it wouldn’t be face to face, but Gideon would still hear. Harrow so desperately wants Gideon to speak to her again, but she knows that she has to first. They are playing the old game again from their childhood of not talking to each other. She hates Gideon for it. She hates that Gideon would stoop so low. She hates that she still can’t talk. Some nights, she pulls at her hair trying to force the words out as Gideon snores next to her. Other nights she scratches at her throat, trying to will it to speak through the pain. But she can’t. It just brings back Gideon falling impaled in her mind, a thing she has so desperately tried to forget. 

And then Ianthe tries again. Harrow was wiping the sweat from her face and then she feels something wet touch her back. Then it starts to ooze up. Harrow tries to ignore it. Ianthe will get bored if Harrow has no reaction. She glares at the wall in front of her imagining all the ways that Ianthe could be murdered. Ripping her apart, bone by bone is rather appealing. Thrusting a clavicle through Ianthe’s chest would also be satisfying but not as much as the first option. 

The thick slime starts to crawl up Harrow’s neck, she tries not to gag. It smells horrific, like spoiled meat that Ortus had forgotten to throw out. It burns like acid and Harrow still ignores it. She sets down the towel and stoops to gather her things and then it touches her cheek. It strokes her cheek. That is enough. Her hand goes to fling it off. But instead it engulfs her fingers making a horrible sucking sound. Harrow wipes around to Ianthe standing on the other side of the training room looking rather smug. Her limp almost clear hair sticks to her face from the sweat of training. Harrow would rip it out if she wasn’t so dead set on not giving Ianthe more satisfaction of knowing she finally made Harrow snap. 

“Can you not be a child for five minutes.” Harrow keeps her voice even.

Ianthe’s smirk widens, “Why? You’re not my mother and the Necrolord isn’t here to supervise his little lyctors.” 

God, Harrow wants to rain constructs down on Ianthe so badly, trapping her in the training room under a mound of bones. She can feel Gideon starting to get irritated as well from the back of her head. Harrow keeps her face calm, “I’m not doing this.”

“I say you are.” Ianthe cackles as blood starts to rain from the ceiling. Damn it, she must have planted some dried blood around the room. The blood hardens into bloody daggers, Harrow’s arm goes over her head — the other instinctively fumbling with the metacarpal in her ear. She winces in pain as the rain cuts into her, but she must remain calm. She can’t let Ianthe think she provoked Harrow. She has to make Ianthe think that this is effort just for self-defense, not that Harrow has wanted to tear Ianthe limb from limb for weeks. 

“I’m sorry.” Harrow says under her breath to Gideon and then throws the metacarpal to the floor. 

Ianthe’s eyes light up with delight, “Finally! I have wanted to play so badly with you.”

The blood turns liquid again, Harrow wipes the blood from her face in disgust knowing some of it is hers. Harrow’s skeletons spring up around her as Ianthe’s blood and puss is sucked back to her. Ianthe points her finger, blood running down it forming into a long blade as she grins. And then she lunges. 

Harrow’s mind focuses on one thing, escape. She just has to get past Ianthe and through the door and barricade it. The skeletons charge Ianthe as she swings her blade. She slices through them as if they were butter. Harrow raises them again into an amalgamation of a construct. Under her breath she keeps repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry-” 

Ianthe slides along the floor like fluid, no she is fluid — melting into the floor and then running up the construct coating it in blood. Harrow tries not to shriek as Ianthe tears the bones apart flinging them across the room. She has to get past that bitch. The bones shake and clatter as Ianthe reforms. Harrow raises her hand urging them to grow. Pillars shoot out of the floor of bones around Ianthe who now is laughing with glee. She is  _ enjoying _ this. Harrow is not. She’s starting to become frantic— this has to end soon! Gideon...she’s burning Gideon…

Harrow’s arm violently swings down to bring the pillars crashing down onto Ianthe.  _ I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. On the Locked Tomb, I’m sorry Griddle.  _ But Ianthe merely becomes a puddle again and the pillars make impact spraying the puss and blood everywhere. As the fluids hit Harrow, her eyes squeeze closed as her fists clench with anger.  _ Fuck you, fuck you, fuck the Third.  _

And then Ianthe is there, leering into Harrow’s face, “Just what I thought— you aren’t any match for me.”

And Harrow has had enough. No, she’s had more than enough. Anger tears through her as she jumps at Ianthe knocking Ianthe to the ground. Her fists pound against Ianthe’s chest like she had done to Gideon as a child. Ianthe’s nails dig into Harrow’s arms as she tries to kick Harrow off. Harrow grabs at Ianthe’s hair yanking and clawing as bones start to shoot out of the ground around them. They wrap around Ianthe’s legs and arms chaining her to the ground. Ianthe laughs again as she headbutts Harrow momentarily stunning Harrow. It was just enough for Ianthe to shatter some of her restraints with bursts of solidified bodily fluids. Harrow gasps as Ianthe wraps her hands around Harrow’s neck and squeezes. “Litte Harrowhark, you are nothing.”

Harrow coughs and claws at Ianthe’s hands but her hands become immobilized by the fluids. Her lungs burn. Can a lyctor be killed through suffocation? Her mind becomes wild as she wheezes in Ianthe’s hands. Bones rise and fall around them as Harrow panics. There is only one thing in her mind. She screams somehow, probably through pure fear, “Gideon!”

_ _ The bones rattle as they start to fly around the room as Harrow’s vision grows spotty even though Ianthe’s vicious smile remains. 

And then— 

— It all stops. 

Ianthe’s arms fall from her neck. The fluids dissolve. Harrow gags and coughs, her arms wrapping around her chest not realizing she is still straddling Ianthe. Ianthe’s body shakes and convulses and Harrow tries to gulp air in in a daze. 

“I swear to the Locked Tomb if you ever touch Harrow again, I will drive this into your brain.” Gideon’s voice comes. Gideon! Harrow stands and reaches toward the source of Gideon’s voice. Her vision is still blurry. Gideon’s hand catches her arm as she stumbles over pieces of bone. Ianthe’s breathing is rapid and she lets out a strangled welp.

“You’re dead.” Ianthe sounds scared. 

Harrow blinks trying to clear her vision. She is clinging to Gideon who stands over Ianthe holding a long sharpened sword of ivory bone. Gideon is clad in bone— bone armor, Harrow realizes. Harrow stares up in shock at Gideon completely confused, but also in awe for. Had she, no they done that? Gideon presses it into Ianthe’s temple, just enough to break the skin for blood to trickle out. “No shit, dickhead. Get the fuck out of here before I decide to drive this through your ugly face.”

“She can see you?” Harrow is completely shocked. Gideon had said that Ianthe hadn’t been able to see her earlier. 

Ianthe starts to melt and flow away from Gideon’s blade before reforming fully. Ianthe spits a tooth onto the floor next to her as a new one grows in. “I can fucking see that thing.”

“My name is Gideon Nav, the last flower of the Ninth, fucker, not that thing.” Gideon points the blade again at Ianthe, “Now get out of my sight.” 

And surprisingly Ianthe complies. 

Then Gideon drops the bone blade and it crumbles once it hits the floor, “Fuck, Harrow, are you ok? You’re bleeding, fuck. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“I’m a lyctor, I’ll be fine,” Harrow says still somewhat in shock. “But..you’re here? You’re in bone armor? Ianthe could see you?”

“You could say that I've been boned.” Gideon replies with a wicked grin.

Harrow pushes her away, “No, seriously Griddle, what the hell? Did I hurt you? Are you ok? How are you feeling? I’m sorry-”

Gideon takes her hand, “You had to do what you had to do.”

“But are you hurt? Did it hurt?” 

Gideon doesn’t say anything. 

“Gideon, please.”

“I’m not hurt.” Gideon says finally. “And yes, it hurt. But you were hurting. One flesh.”

Harrow grabs Gideon, squeezing her, as the rest of the bone crumbles, “I’m sorry.”

“Harrow, it’s ok.” Gideon murmurs as she tangels her fingers in Harrow’s curls, “Come on, let's get you back to your quarters.” 

“The armor-” 

Gideon cuts off Harrow, “It was fucking awesome.”

Gideon insists on carrying Harrow back to her bunk. Harrow finally gives in after Gideon picks her up like a misbehaving cat. Harrow presses her cheek against Gideon in the hallway relieved that she hadn’t hurt Gideon. Or at least she hadn’t hurt Gideon in the way she feared. She thought she hadn’t. But Gideon could be lying to her so she doesn’t worry. She presses her hand over Gideon’s heart. There is no pulse below her hand, just a burning heat. And then they are at her bunk.

They fall onto her bed together, their arms and legs tangling. Harrow stares into Gideon’s gold eyes. Her finger runs along Gideon’s jaw as they lay silent for a bit, listening to each other’s breathing. And then Gideon speaks, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Idiot, I’m a lyctor— it would have been fine.” Harrow slaps Gideon’s arm.

Gideon’s face darkens, “But it could have been not fine. She was strangling you. We don’t know what the limitations are to lyctor immortality.”

Harrow closes her eyes and sighs. Gideon is right. They don’t know. She has tried asking questions and tried looking for answers in the library and everything is so vague, “Griddle, tell me how you manifested like that.”

Gideon stiffens for a moment and then relaxes, “You did it.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“My dearest queen of the dark nine, you did that. It wasn’t me. You called me and I came.” Gideon brushes her knuckles against Harrow’s cheek, “You ripped me out. The bones they were flying everywhere and then I just grabbed one. I was going to hit Ianthe over the head with it. But uh, yeah then it was a sword and the other were armor.”

“I did that?” Harrow can’t quite believe it herself.

“Yeah, babe.” Gideon grins, “You were so cool.”

And with that Gideon earns a smack from Harrow. Gideon playfully punches her back. Harrow smacks her again as Gideon starts to laugh, “Come on, it was really cool.”

“You’re so stupid sometimes.” 

“No, you’re stupid.” Gideon steals a kiss from Harrow before Harrow can start to sputter in protest. “My liege of the blackest heart.”

Harrow runs her fingers through Gideon’s hair as they lay nose to nose, “You’re my general.”

“I like that. Your general of the skeleton army.” 

Harrow tries to scowl at Gideon but can’t anymore, “I already regret saying that, Griddle.”

“General Gideon Nav of the Ninth. It sounds good.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
